Promises
by A Star In My Universe
Summary: "Home is people. Not a place. If you go back there after the people are gone, then all you can see is what is not there any more." Sequel to Home! Completely AU.
1. Beginning Of The End

Nicky bolted breathlessly towards the hospital doors, not caring that the cold December night air burned her lungs. If she was in pain, then she knew this was real - and she knew that the pain would only get worse from here on out. "Galina Reznikov." Nicky barked to the receptionist, wild eyes darting around the room. The condescending smile she got in return did nothing to comfort her. Instead, it enraged her and she wanted to rip the computer from the desk and smash it into a million pieces. Instead, she dug her nails into her palms and bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

"Room 203." The receptionist managed apathetically, throwing Nicky a lazy, pseudo sympathetic smile. Nicky didn't wait to say thank you. What would she have been thanking for? As she rushed off, the corridors passed in a busy blur. People had their own tragedies to concentrate on; they didn't care that Nicky rushed through the halls like a bloodhound looking for its target. The room wasn't difficult to find, and as she ripped the door open, she saw a flash of red hair fanned out on a pillow.

"Why didn't you tell me this morning?" Nicky asked tearfully, her head held in her hands as she was immediately at her bedside. Bile rose in her throat as she saw all the wires, all of the lines that must have appeared overnight because Red, her larger than life mama, looked _old_. "I could have helped. I would have come home." _I would have done anything._

Red gave Nicky a weak smile. "Nothing you could have done would have made my heart beat properly." Red said feebly. She licked her lips and attempted to continue despite the searing pain that shot through her like electric shocks. She had refused more pain medication than she was allowed. She had wanted to be at least lucid when Nicky had come to say goodbye. "Besides," she said, closing her eyes for a moment just to gain enough strength to finish the sentence. "I don't believe in getting sick."

Nicky dragged a chair over to the bed and knelt on it, the upper half of her body lying on the bed. Lying over Red. The words she had said so many times before, now parroted back at her. It made her feel sick. Sobs rose in her chest as she tried to stop the tears from flowing. As she unsuccessfully tried to stay positive.

 _Do you believe in dying?_

As soon as the thought entered her head, she broke down. The facade that she'd built of having even a little bit of self restraint came crumbling down as she let the tears pour. Red felt powerless to comfort her child. There was nothing she could say to make this better...but she was going to try. She would always try. _"Malyshka,"_ Red managed, her own voice choked with tears, "I know it's hard. But this day was always going to come." The words were hollow even to her and she knew it wasn't what Nicky needed to hear.

Nicky shook her head hopelessly, and Red watched her only daughter spiral further into denial. She had always forbidden any talk about death. Always brushed it off as morbid. Red's fingers raked through Nicky's hair. Something familiar. Red tilted Nicky's chin up so she was facing her. Tear stained cheeks made her look so young as those doe eyes looked up at her despairingly. "You are going to be okay, Nicky. I promise you. For Samantha." Red smiled faintly despite the awful situation. Her granddaughter would always make her feel like smiling. _Samantha Galina._ The smile faded as she faced Nicky again, her tone pleading. "She needs her mama."

Nicky's howls could have been heard in every room. _What about me?_ She screamed inside of her head. _I need my mama!_ "I need you, Red. I've always needed you." Nicky said desperately. She pressed her forehead against Red's pale, sweaty brow, her breaths coming quickly and raggedly and Red's coming less and less frequently, rattling in her chest. "No, please, Red," Nicky said, hands desperately scrabbling for Red's. "I love you. Please don't leave me. Take me with you. Or stay with me. Please, Red," Nicky pleaded as if she had any choice. As if she was twelve years old again. The Christmas decorations hung in the bleak room made it even worse. Christmas was their time. It was supposed to be special. "I need to be with you," Nicky said hysterically, panic building inside of her. "Don't do this to me, _not again_."

Red fought her own tears. "We've had so many years together. Happy years! So many memories. And I remember every one of them. You have your own malyshka to take care of now. Tell Samantha that I love her. That I'll always be her babushka. Make those memories with her. Promise me, Nicky," she begged her daughter with a breath that neared her last. "Promise me you won't do anything fucking stupid." She pulled Nicky's face close to her own so that their cheeks touched, and her fingers tangled in that hair of hers. That beautiful, wild hair. "You are _not_ to give up." She squeezed Nicky's hands with all the strength she had, and Nicky was devastated to only feel Red's hand only managing to limply clutch at her fingers.

The tears welled in Nicky's eyes and she couldn't promise anything genuine. But if Red needed to hear it, if that was the only way she'd...if that was the only way she'd be able to die in peace, then as much as it hurt, Nicky was willing to try. "I promise," Nicky said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "For Samantha." Nicky added, making sure Red knew that her daughter's happiness and well being was the only thing she ever put above Red. That without Samantha, she'd join her in a heartbeat. One last fix and eternity with Red...or a black nothingness wherein she wouldn't know the difference.

"Nicky?" Red rasped. She had to say everything she needed to say now, or she might never get the chance to. And she wasn't about to do that to Nicky. She needed closure. She needed a mother who cared and Red wasn't about to abandon the responsibility she'd taken on for over two decades now, when they both needed each other the most.

Nicky glanced up, her arm still looped around Red's. An ashen face stared down at her, but her eyes were still the same and they sparkled. "Yeah?"

"You'll always be mine." Red said quietly but confidently. "My child. My only daughter. I love you. You'll always be my home." Tears slid down her cheeks as she blinked them away. "Even when I'm gone. _Especially_ when I'm gone."

Nicky nodded wordlessly, a whimper escaping from her lips as she buried her head into Red's arm. There weren't any words that suited her better. _You are my home._ "You'll always be mine too, Ma."

She could feel her breathing becoming shallower. Nicky held her hand tighter and reminded her that she was there. That she would always be there, no matter what. Nicky felt her chest rise and fall as she struggled for breath. The heart monitor marched on with one beep after the other as Red fought for every beat of her heart. "Mom?" Nicky said softly, trying to catch Red's attention. "It's okay, Red. You can let go now."

There was a hitch in her breath and then nothing. No last juddering breath. No miracle that meant everything was going to be okay. Just nothing. Nicky stared, tears making her brown eyes twinkle, as she realized that nothing would be the same ever again. Just a flat-line and Nicky. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Nicky reached into the bag she had brought for Red's stay. Because not once had she considered that Red might not be coming back from the hospital. She hadn't allowed herself that. Red's brush was the same one she'd had for years, and even it brought back memories for Nicky as she held it between her hands. "It's okay, Ma. Let's sort out your hair."

Tears flowed freely as Nicky gently brushed the hair from Red's eyes, carefully hiding any strands of gray that she hadn't managed to catch. She would have hated for anyone to see them. "You would always do this for me." Nicky managed a watery smile. "Even when I was too old for it." She hummed softly to Red as she combed the hair. "And I can't forget your lipstick. Signature. Samantha always wanted to try, remember?" Nicky asked redundantly, carefully applying the makeup although she knew it would probably get washed off again. It didn't matter to her. It was the final thing she could do. Make her look like her old self again before she had to leave her alone here. "And you...well, you turned soft in your old age. Anything for her. Even your red lipstick."

Nicky planted a kiss on Red's alabaster cheek. "There, all done. You look beautiful." Nicky choked out. "I love you," she said, placing Red's hands in her lap. She turned away from her mother and headed to the door. "Goodnight, Ma."

* * *

"It's okay," Nicky said wearily as she turned the key in the door. One hand still remained in Samantha's as she tried to comfort her daughter. Even thinking about others when her heart felt broken was a feat, yet trying to make her own child feel better and failing made her feel even worse. Telling Samantha about Red's passing was the worst thing she'd ever had to do, and she'd done some pretty fucked up things in her time.

How had Red managed it? Nicky wondered as she gave her daughter a little push inside. It was so much harder than she had ever made it seem, and she wondered how she managed to stay sane during her addictions. She looked at her daughter. She couldn't even manage her grief, let alone her detoxing.

Going into the house was even harder than she expected. A wave of grief hit her and she wanted to fall to the ground. She wanted to drown in the torment that all of the memories brought her, and by the way her lungs felt, it was a possibility. Christmas decorations surrounded her. Had she appreciated last Christmas as much as she should have? Did she know, somewhere deep inside, that it was their last? She wanted to crumple on the floor and break down. To die, if it made the ache go away - and she knew there was a thousand substances that could do both at once. But Samantha was looking at her worriedly, and so she took a deep breath. _Calm down, malyshka...nothing good will come from hitting self-destruct._

The words felt so real and close that Nicky wanted to throw up, but she swallowed hard and forced herself to look around the room dizzily. Everywhere she looked was a memory. Even just a glance across the room together. The door frame that showed Samantha's height over the years, that Red had painstakingly recorded every year, despite the little girl who tried to stand on tippy toes.

"I'm tired, Mom," Samantha said quietly, breaking through the silence. The word Mom was enough for Nicky to falter, and she stuttered an incoherent response before she got her bearings.

"Go to bed, baby," she murmured, planting a light kiss on Samantha's cheek. Her jaw worked as she stumbled over her words, trying to find something of value to say. She couldn't. The haze was similar to drugs, only without the high. She simply shook her head and squeezed her daughter's hand. "It's late."

Samantha complied; she had never seen her mother so distraught, and it was almost scary to watch. "Goodnight," she said in a whisper. Nicky said nothing. It wasn't a good night. It was the worst night of her life, and the words seemed to spite her despite the good intentions behind them. She watched Samantha disappear into the room that Red had saved for her. That Red had decorated every now and again, smirking as Samantha marveled at the beauty that her babushka had managed once again. After seeing her daughter's door close, Nicky allowed the tears to flow.

Red's room still had the light on like a beacon of hope. And like a moth to a flame (you find trouble like a moth finds a flame, Nicky, she'd always laugh), Nicky found her feet walking independently to the door, despite her reservations. It had only been hours since she was last there. Would the bed still be warm? Would it smell like her? Would everything be the same, like she had left in a hurry? Or would something forever be missing?

Finding the bed, Nicky crawled under the blanket that now had tattered edges and loose woolly threads hanging from it. Red had run her hands over the thing a million times, from when Nicky was still a child until now, when her eyes shone and she laughed, rolling her eyes about Nicky keeping it for so long. It had seemed right, as she had turned the key in the lock, that she come here again. The scent of Red clung to the walls. Her warmth permeated the air. Her handiwork held Nicky together when she wanted to fall apart, the threadbare blanket cocooning Nicky into a heap of grief, tears, and longing. She crammed her fist into her mouth, stifling the screams of pain that made her chest feel like it was about to explode. Every bone in her body ached for Red. It was a physical yearning that she had only known one other time in her life, and that was when Red left for the first time. Only this time...Nicky shook her head as her shoulders heaved with the sobs that wracked her body. This time, Nicky screamed inside her head, there was no coming back.

Samantha hovered outside of the door. Her mother's cries in anguish had not gone unnoticed to her, and her brow creased in concern. She had loved her grandmother, and they had shared an enormous wealth of happy memories together, but her mother and her had something different; something unique to anything anyone else had. Even in the movies, it wasn't the same. They hadn't seen Red and Nicky. They hadn't witnessed, like Samantha had, the stolen glances across the room. The secret smiles. The tears that were allowed to flow. The love, constant and true, that forever would be burned into Nicky's heart.

"Mommy?" Samantha asked quietly as she entered the room. The darkness shrouded Nicky's grief and Samantha couldn't see the pile of tears and heartbreak that was curled up on the bed. Nicky instantly looked up, for the word was foreign to her daughter's lips. It had been for some time now. Nicky didn't want to come out from under the covers. She wanted to let herself die in there. But there was someone relying on her and, Nicky realized, as she peeked out from the blanket, she looked afraid. Nicky allowed herself one final moment of wishing for self annihilation, and then exhaled forcefully through her nose.

Nicky lifted the blanket up, thankful that the dark would hide her tear stained face. "You can sleep here if you want to." Nicky offered, her voice sounding alien to even herself. "Come on. Keep me company."

Samantha ran to her mother and dived under the covers with her. Arms instantly wrapped around her and she felt better already. "I miss her." Samantha said, her brow furrowing. "I know it hasn't been long, but..."

Nicky shook her head. "I miss her too, baby."

"Will you sing to me?" Samantha asked, her voice wobbling. "Babushka used to when I was little. I always said I was too old..." she trailed off.

"Shh." Nicky said. It was too painful to hear, and she didn't want Samantha to think of all of the negatives when there were so many positives. She remembered the song that used to lull the little girl to sleep whenever nothing else would. The song that Red had taught her, in Russian and English. "Babushka knew you loved her. She told me to tell you the same." Nicky took a deep, grounding breath and began to sing.

 _"Pust' vsegda budet solntse,_  
 _Pust' vsegda budet nebo,_  
 _Pust' vsegda budet mama,_  
 _Pust' vsegda budu ya."_

By the end of the song, the teenager had been sung to sleep, tears clinging to her ruddy cheeks. Nicky sighed herself, and pulled a corner of the blanket to her nose. She held her daughter close to her, and prayed that the morning would be better.

* * *

Morning rolled around like it always would for the living, as much as Nicky had wanted it to never arrive. When she first opened her eyes, the bed next to her was empty, and she padded through to the kitchen. Her heart broke all over again as she watched Samantha sitting on a kitchen stool, staring down at a photo of three generations. It had only been taken a year or so ago, and yet felt like several life times ago. For a moment, Nicky just watched. Then she rubbed her daughter's shoulder and started to make a pot of coffee.

"Mom?" Samantha said tentatively. Nicky glanced up from her coffee and nodded. She always tried to find time for her daughter, even when her head was all over the place. "I have something for you."

"Yeah?" Nicky asked, her voice lacking any curiosity at all. She was trying, but it was exhausting even to move her lips. She sighed wearily and took a sip of her coffee. "What is it?"

"Mhm..." Samantha said. "I don't know what it is. Babushka gave it to me to give to you. I think it was supposed to be for Christmas...but it's close enough now, isn't it? She wanted you to have it even if she couldn't give it to you herself." Samantha looked up guiltily. "I hope you're not upset with me."

Nicky spluttered on her coffee before composing herself. "Of course I'm not. I'm just confused. What are you talking about?" Nicky almost demanded, her brow creasing. She smoothed her daughter's hair to ease her worry.

"She said you wouldn't want to talk about it...you know, death." Samantha said quietly, more withdrawn than Nicky had ever known her to be. Than Nicky had ever raised her to be. "Said that she was getting older and might not have much time left," Samantha closes her eyes. "I didn't think she was right. I just said okay. Let her talk. She seemed happier when she was finished and let me help her bake. I think..." Samantha hesitated. "I think she felt better knowing you'd get it."

Nicky nodded thoughtfully, and wasn't ashamed by the tears dripping down her cheeks. She wiped them away and gave Samantha a hug, pulling her close and kissing her cheek. "I'm glad she had you. She loved you so much."

Samantha passed Nicky the bag, holding it out expectantly. Nicky took it and smiled through her tears. "Pandora." She narrowed her eyes and laughed though her chest still ached with loss. "Your babushka was a fraud. I wanted a bracelet from here. She told me not to waste my money."

Nicky opened the bag carefully. It was hard to disturb something Red had put together so considerately, but she was also desperate to know what was inside. A note was tucked inside the bag. Nicky delved inside to see what the note contained, and her heart skipped a beat when she did. Red's handwriting was instantly recognizable, and Nicky's eyes filled with tears.

 _Malayshka - smile, it's Christmas! Our favorite time of the year. Things might seem bleak at times, and they often will - but the fairy lights shine brightly and we both know that Samantha likes to put up enough to light up the whole city. Whenever things seem like too much, or you begin to doubt yourself - look down at this. Look down and remember every happy memory. Look down and remember the many years we had together on this Earth. And add to it. Make memories for yourself and Samantha. You don't have to be miserable. Make it as full as you made my heart. You deserve that and more._

 _Merry Christmas, Nicky. I love you._

 _\- Ma_

The words were just what Nicky needed to hear, and even if she wasn't quite ready to accept them yet, it meant everything to Nicky that she had her handwriting and style on a page to look at whenever she wanted. To look at when she needed to talk to her. She pressed the letter to her chest and breathed the moment in. Tears slipped from her eyes and she wiped them away, terrified of smudging the ink. With a trembling hand, she reached inside the bag and pulled out a box. The lid came off easily, and Nicky smiled when she saw what Red had left her. Nothing could have been more perfect, and yet it was like a blinding sun - she didn't want to look at it for came tumbling back to her and she let the tears flow, along with a little laugh, as she recalled every moment that was attached to the bracelet in the form of a charm. Red had managed to condense years worth of memories into a bracelet that would sit on her wrist forever and always. That she could look down on, just like she had suggested. Nicky slipped the bracelet on her wrist and admired it. It must have taken years to accumulate the charms. There were ones that were memories from years ago, from when Samantha was small.

"What is it, Mom?" Samantha asked as Nicky marveled. She attempted to peek closer to the bracelet, and Nicky held it up for her, examining the charms herself as they jingled together.

"It's a charm bracelet." Nicky said proudly. Her chest heaved as she thought of Red slowly filling it with memories. How was it possible for the bracelet to be so full and yet for her to feel so empty? "It must have taken years to build up. There are so many memories here. Things you won't even remember."

Samantha smiled. "I wouldn't?" She peered at the bracelet and had to concede - there were things she couldn't even guess about. "It must have taken a long time. She really loved you, Mom." Nicky smiled at her daughter. She knew this already, but it was nice that someone else noticed. "Will you tell me about them?"

Nicky looked up at her daughter in surprise, and then she nodded. It wouldn't be easy. It fact it would probably be very painful. But then recalling every nice moment in your life couldn't be all bad, could it? And her little face was so excited. Nicky nodded again. She was touched that her daughter wanted to know. "Of course I will, sweetheart."

Nicky's gaze fell back down to her bracelet and she managed a small but still tearful smile. No, things would never be the same again, and that devastated her. But she had hope now, that despite not being the same...that one day, things would be okay again.

 **Hey guys!**

 **The song translates to (apparently):  
**

 _May there always be sunshine,_  
 _May there always be blue skies,_  
 _May there always be mummy,_  
 _May there always be me!_

 **I told you it wouldn't be long before you saw me again. And Home. ;) If you're not sick of the both of us by now, please leave me a review telling me what you thought and what you want to see next. Please, though, don't tell me any spoilers for S5. I have only seen episode one.**

 **Stay safe and have a wonderful day/night, lovelies!**

 **\- Star xo**


	2. No Good In Goodbye

_"Goodbye? Oh no, please. Can't we just go back to page one and start all over again?"_

Nicky closed her eyes as the coffin was lowered into the ground. She wanted to climb into the grave with Red. Her whole body ached, her muscles screamed at her to just move. But she stood resolutely on the spot, her fingers entwined with her daughter's, as the priest invited her to throw dirt over the coffin. Nicky didn't know what significance it held. She never listened properly and today was no exception, but she tossed it down like she was throwing bread to ducks, like she had done countless times with Red when Samantha was little.

It made it easier, somehow, imagining that this scenario was anything but a funeral. Anything but Red's fucking funeral. Because she wasn't supposed to be dead. She was full of life and she spent her whole life looking after others. And Nicky needed her. She needed her more than anything. Nicky's knees felt like they were going to buckle and she took a deep breath, the feel of her daughter's clammy fingers clasped in hers grounding her.

She felt numb as the priest continued, and largely ignored what he was saying. In the back of her mind, Red's voice echoed. _Patriarchal bullshit,_ she complained. _He doesn't know me better than you do. No-one does. Why are you listening to this?_ Nicky smiled weakly though she felt like her chest was going to explode.

Would life always be like this now? Would she always be looking around the corner, catching a glimpse of red hair, or a laugh that sounded too familiar? Would she be looking for a sign of her anywhere...everywhere? Nicky looked up and was faced with Red's blue eyes on a masculine face. Yuri stared back at Nicky, his gaze vacant. God knows what he was thinking, Nicky thought. Did his grief match hers, did she miss her more? She cursed herself for thinking it, yet desperately craved the answer.

Her internal monologue was interrupted by the final piece by the priest. "We therefore commit Galina's body to the ground. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Amen."

It all felt so wrong. God, religion, heaven, platitudes that said she was in a better place now...it was bullshit. Nicky took a deep breath. Her goodbye would be private, meaningful. She would say everything she needed to, but for now, she just had to get through. She felt Samantha squeezing her fingers. She wondered what she'd do without her daughter. Wondered if it had been the thought of seeing her children again that had allowed Red to get through all those lonely years in Russia when they were ripped apart. Red had always said it, but Nicky never really appreciated the gravity of what love for your child could make you do...or, in this case, pull you through, until Samantha was placed in her arms.

As the priest finished, the congregation had begun to disperse. Nicky lingered at the grave side despite the priest's gentle encouragement to leave; she wouldn't leave her all alone...she couldn't. Not yet. She had too many things to say. She fought the tears and offered Samantha a tight lipped forced smile. "Go inside and sit with your uncles. Ask Yuri if he'll take you to the memorial service when everyone leaves...I'll catch you up, okay?"

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Samantha asked, concern swimming in her brown eyes. "I don't mind, Mom, honestly I'd rather-"

"No," Nicky said with effort. Everything felt like a bigger effort now. Even talking; even _breathing._ "You go find your uncles. I'll be fine." Nicky swallowed hard and turned back to the grave as Samantha walked away.

She watched as the dirt poured over the grave in a waterfall of soil. It was a physical wrench not to throw herself towards the half filled hole in the ground, but she held her ground and watched wordlessly. The dirt kept flowing until the grave was filled to the top, the only thing distinguishing Red from every other body in the graveyard - a mound of fresh soil and a woman who sobbed for her mother staring at it.

As soon as the people filling the grave moved away, Nicky knelt at the side of the grave. A pile of flowers had built up at the side, discarded by well meaning relatives and friends. The grave looked so lonely. No headstone, at least not yet; completely bereft of color and life. So unlike her, Nicky thought painfully, as she gathered the flowers into her lap. Church bells rang out in the background and she ignored them. She placed the flowers on the grave, neat rows of roses and lilies and peonies, and pressed them down gently. Bunch after bunch she gave Red a blanket of color that protected her from the snow that had begun to fall over Nicky; it comforted her to know that she would be protected from the elements, at least, if Nicky couldn't protect her from anything else anymore.

"There," Nicky said, her voice cracking. It felt good to be alone with her, even if it was unsettling talking aloud in an empty graveyard so close to the festive period, when everywhere else was filled with Christmas joy, she was filled with unspoken sorrow. "It's like you're all tucked in. Like you used to do for me when I was little." She allowed herself a teary smile. "I hope you're warm and safe." Nicky said softly. "I know, I know," she sighed. "When you're dead, you're dead. Gone forever. But I don't think I can think like that anymore," she admitted. She patted the flowers, trying to find something to do with her hands. "I want to believe that you'll be there when I get home. I want to know that I won't be alone. I want to know that you can make it all better."

"So do I."

The voice startled her and Nicky jumped up and span around quickly. "Vasily." She said quietly upon realizing who had been listening. She wiped her eyes and stood eye to eye with him. "I don't know how I'm gonna get through this."

"Me either." He admitted reluctantly. "But you can still see her. In the kids, in the words she used. In dreams," he added, a hint of a smile ghosting on his features for a moment. A similar smile skimps Nicky's features fleetingly, but hers is different, more regretful. She loved Red's sons; not once had they resented her for finding a home in their mother. Not once had they uttered an annoyance or grievance about her finding a mother in their own. It took security in her love, and a certain type of family, to allow a stray in. And they had, with open arms, and they continued to do so even in her passing. But Nicky hadn't seen Red in her dreams. She hadn't seen anything in the black abyss that sleep brought.

"I don't." Nicky murmured. "I see her in Ivan. I see her in Luca. I see her in Sam, even though there aren't genetics there." Nicky said to her almost brother. "But I don't see her in dreams." The thought of hearing her voice, crystal clear once again, was a life raft in this sea of grief and she clung to the idea.

"Genetics never mattered. She's Ma through and through," he said proudly, thinking of his niece's mischievous giggle and of his nephew's twinkling blue eyes. All of her grandchildren had elements of her in them, regardless of if they had her blood flowing through their veins, and it was a comfort for everyone. "And maybe...maybe the dreams will come once the shock has worn off. Once things have settled."

"Maybe," Nicky echoed. She looked up to the sky, which had opened itself up to a sprinkling of icy confetti that blustered around them both, turning their faces a rosy pink.

"I think we should go inside." Vasily said eventually, after watching the snow settle on Nicky's thin jacket as she stayed still, crouched by the graveside. His mother would have wanted him to protect the family now that she couldn't, and letting Nicky freeze to death wasn't exactly befitting of the protector description.

Nicky blinked back tears but stood shakily. She felt like a child again, but Vasily didn't seem to mind the hand that reached out for him. "I think you're probably right."

* * *

Day swiftly faded into night and before Nicky knew it she was faced with another possibly sleepless night. Insomnia was just another hurdle in the rush of grief, and she had never been someone that got their full eight hours anyway.

Sleep was never restful now, though. It was a dreamless slumber, a chance for Nicky's body to recuperate from all of the tears and pain. Even through the addictions, she had managed to dream. She had woken up feeling refreshed. Needing a fix, but still fairly ready to face the day. Nowadays, she always wanted to pull the covers back over her head and hide away, and she often woke up at strange times. 2AM was a time that she often saw nowadays, and as she glanced at the clock on her bedside table, she realized that she had once again been woken before the sun had risen.

She padded out of bed and into the kitchen, where the photograph of Red stood. It had been placed at the top of the altar in the church as the funeral had taken place. She clutched it to her chest. Nicky stared at the photo frame in front of her. She willed herself to feel anything but sorrow, anything but the crushing weight of grief on her chest, but nothing happened. More tears spilled down her cheeks and she wiped them away. She traced Red's face within the photograph with her finger and stepped outside into the cold, unforgiving winter's night.

Stars were scattered across the sky like the goosebumps littered up her arms. "Why can't I see you, Ma?" Nicky murmured into the darkness, her voice disappearing into the night. "Don't you...don't you miss me?" Her voice cracked. Her breath could be seen as a mist in the already foggy night air. She hugged the frame close to her chest. Keeping it warm. Keeping it close to her own beating heart. It was fitting that the cold air burned her lungs, and she didn't mind; if she hurt physically, then maybe somewhere along the way, her heart would stop aching so acutely. Maybe, somewhere and somehow, she wouldn't feel like she was being drowned from the inside out.

"Vasily says he dreams about you all of the time." Nicky said. Her voice came out bitter, desperate. Curls blew gently in the wind, and Nicky looked up to the sky. Her stare was blank because although she had a myriad of emotions swirling inside of her, nothing spurred her to show it on her face. There was no-one to comfort her, not here. Not now. "Is it me?" Nicky cried. "Is it me, did I not love you enough?" She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and continued. "Or...or is it you?" Nicky nodded and closed her eyes. "They're your sons, I know that," she whispered. "But what about me? I'm-I'm…" Nicky grappled for the right words, her tone sounding demoralized. "I'm yours too. Remember? I'm your home." Whilst she tried to sound confident, the words came out as a last ditch attempt to plead, as a prayer. She cast her eyes to the sky. "So please, Red...please just come home...even if just for one dream. Please come home."

 ** _Hey guys. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave me a review telling me what you thought and what you want to see next. I hope you're well, safe and happy._**

 ** _\- Star  
xo_**


	3. Supermarket Flowers

_Oh I'm in pieces it's tearing me up but I know_  
 _A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved_  
 _So I'll sing Hallelujah, you were an angel in the shape of my mom_  
 _When I fell down you'd be there holding me up_

Nicky's eyes fluttered open. The air was too still, too quiet, for it to be her normal rising time, which had settled at around nine due to her nocturnal habits, and yet the room was too bright to be night still. There was a crispness to outside that showed the beginnings of a new day, and Nicky had seen a thousand dawns to know it was around five o'clock. The time when Red would be preparing for another busy day at the bakery. The time where Red would sit with a coffee and think. Nicky shook her head as if she could shake the memories from the forefront of her mind. Her mind still felt foggy and she fought the fuzziness that lack of sleep had brought. As she stared at her ceiling, she heard voices from the kitchen.

"Okay, it's your turn now. Two eggs. Go on, crack it into the bowl!"

Nicky immediately sobered, the fug that clouded her mind ebbing away. She would know that accent anywhere, the soft inflection of her voice as she made breakfast countless times with her only granddaughter. She knew it like the back of her hand. Red.

"Ma?" Nicky breathed, her voice rough from just waking up. She wasn't sure if this was the cruel dream, or if the nightmare that had been the last weeks was just that...a nightmare? She quickly scrabbled with the covers, threw them off of herself, and ran to her bedroom door. Her wild eyes scanned the room, desperately looking for a sign that she hadn't dreamed the whole awful ordeal. _I don't have that inside of my head, do I?_ Nicky thought, her heart pounding at the thought of not having to swim through the grief and drowning in the process anymore. Her voice fell to barely a whisper. "Ma, is that you?"

Her fingers clung to the door frame and she closed her eyes. For the briefest moment, she let herself believe that it had all been a dream. Red's voice floated down the hallway. "Samantha, you're getting egg shell in the bowl," she laughed easily. It sounded so real. So genuinely full of affection. Nicky couldn't wait any longer.

She crept into the kitchen, her heart thumping. Her fingers curled around her necklace and she held it to her lips, holding her breath as she peered into the room. Her presence was immediately felt in the lonely room, and Samantha jumped guiltily. Her daughter, who had sat at the island in the middle of the room, slammed her laptop lid shut. As she did so, Red's voice instantly cut off. Her sentence was cut short, and her laugh, her beautiful laugh, didn't ring through the room anymore.

If Nicky had to describe the moment, she would liken it to the time she got pulled under the sea as a child. One moment she was basking in the glorious sun, splashing the refreshing water around her, and the next...the next, she could barely draw breath and every movement felt ten times as hard as she fought to keep her head above water. It lasted only minutes but felt like hours, and this felt so similar that Nicky found herself gasping for breath.

Vaguely, she heard Samantha's voice repeating the same word - 'sorry' - but it had no meaning to her. Her fingers tugged at her necklace as she tried to give herself some semblance of comfort, but her scrabbling got her nowhere. The world felt in slow motion as she felt the chain slip through her fingertips, watching as the pendant hit the floor with a little thump. She felt sick. For what seemed like the longest time, she simply stared at the necklace on the floor until her eyes blurred with tears. "No," Nicky cried, her hands grabbing handfuls of hair as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. Her fingers ghosted the back of her neck, desperately trying to locate the necklace that now lay at her feet.

She picked it up and cradled it to her chest. Samantha watched helplessly and tried to offer words of comfort to her mother. "It's okay, mama; you can just get a new chain," she stammered, holding up the chain and seeing that the pendant was just fine.

Nicky's forehead creased as she gently took the pendant from her daughter. Her mind flashed through every time she had ran her fingers over the chain, how many times the necklace had brought her comfort in times of hardship. It would never be the same, not now she had ruined it. _Just like I ruin everything,_ Nicky thought bitterly.

When you have nothing to lose, the notion of sentimentality was foreign, hard to grasp, and seemed downright idiotic. Nicky had thought much the same when she was younger. But now she had found love, irrevocable and unconditional, in the form of her mother and her daughter, and she had ultimately paid the price that came alongside it - unimaginable and intangible loss. The necklace wasn't Red and of course she knew that, but it had been a lifeline, a beacon of hope and protection for her in difficult times. When Red left her as a child, it was the necklace that left her hanging on. Now it was as broken and damaged as her fragile state of mind.

She considered Samantha's offer of comfort. It was Theseus' Paradox. If she replaced the chain, was it the same necklace? It didn't feel right, somehow - all of the sentiments she had poured into the necklace would disappear. Of course it was the same pendant, but what if that broke one day, too? If she replaced the chain, and then had to replace the pendant, it wouldn't be the one Red had given to protect her at all. It would be just another piece of jewelry, like all of the meaningless necklaces Marka had kept from various boyfriends, left to tangle in a drawer somewhere and create a mess that resembled life.

Whilst she desperately wanted to fall apart, she held it together. Her own child stood in front of her and her hands trembled as she held out the necklace. Nicky took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry." Nicky said finally. "It's okay." She gathered her necklace and put it in her pocket. It wasn't forgotten about, but she couldn't break down as much as she wanted to. It would go against everything that Red ever taught her about being a mother. She stood strong no matter what, even in those last few minutes...Nicky looked at her daughter. It was a sobering thought. Even when dying, Red put her first. Now she was going to do that for her own little girl, even if she wasn't so little anymore. Nicky held out her hand though her heart was still breaking. She reached out for her daughter and her voice cracked as she asked, "how about we make some pancakes?"

* * *

Nicky raked her fingers through Samantha's hair absently. Darkness had fallen over the pair of them as they watched The TV faded into the background and she looked down at her daughter whose face remained serene in her sleep, as she stretched out on the couch. She never knew whether she was doing a good job. Would her daughter respect her as much as she respected Red? Would she feel as safe? Of course it wouldn't be exactly the same; Nicky had made sure that her childhood was nothing like her own. She would never know, Nicky had tried to make sure, what it felt to not be loved. She would never feel, Nicky hoped, like she had no-one to turn to.

Nicky smiled sadly, and allowed a few tears to fall before wiping them away. The sniffling stirred Samantha and Nicky trailed her fingers over her forehead gently. "It's okay," she said softly.

Samantha glanced up at her mother, brown eyes wide. She sounded so mature yet so young simultaneously. "I'm sorry about this morning. Are you okay?"

"It's only a necklace," Nicky lied, not looking Samantha in the eye. "It can be fixed and everything will be okay."

"Mom?" Sam asked tentatively after a moment of silence.

Nicky glanced down. "Hmm?"

"I really liked making pancakes with you today." Her voice sounded stuffy, like she was holding back tears. Nicky knew the feeling. "I mean, they tasted terrible," she giggled, "But I didn't know if you'd ever want to see pancakes again, let alone make them."

Nicky choked back tears and nodded, looking out of the window. "I didn't either," she admitted. "I enjoyed making them too." Nicky paused for a moment. Looking down at her daughter, she knew what she had to do. "Go back to sleep, baby."

* * *

Snow had the wonderful ability to cover everything in a blanket of purity. It didn't make everything clean again, but everything _looked_ clean again and it allowed everyone to gloss over the fact that the shit in the world still remained underneath it, just hidden by something beautiful. Maybe that was the key to life - ignoring all the unpleasant shit and focusing on the things that made getting up in the morning worth it. Nicky hadn't figured that out yet.

Nicky's boots made a trail of imperfection in the virgin snow. It felt symbolic that they were the only footprints in the snow. Grief was a path she walked alone on and she took a deep breath as she opened the gate to the cemetery. It was dark out, but the stillness of the streets was calming and not unnerving like she'd worried. Nicky threw her head back, letting the cold windy chill of the night wash over her face. She had spent a thousand nights out too late as a teenager, and it made her feel proud that her own teenager was in bed at home, not having to worry about where she was going to sleep or how she was going to get her next fix.

Nicky knew the exact path she needed to get to the grave. Two lefts and a right later, she reached the grave and knelt next to it, despite the ice and snow stinging her skin through her tights. It was a good kind of pain, a good, sobering kind of pain that reminded her she was still alive. Nicky looked around the deserted graveyard. Freezing to death was a good way to go, supposedly, Nicky had read once.

No, she shook her head. She wouldn't do that to her daughter. Instead, Nicky sighed as she ran her fingers over the grave, the lettering worn and weathered. "How did we end up here, hmm?" Nicky asked. The stone was cold and it was a wrench to see the dates engraved on it. "I'm looking after her, I promise," she whispered. "I'll never leave her. Not as long as I live." Nicky sighed and brushed snow from the top of the grave. "I miss you."

Nicky inhaled and looked to the starry sky. It had become somewhat of an acquaintance of hers. "She looks like you. I see it sometimes when she smiles. When she looks at me and wrinkles her nose - it's all you. Just you," Nicky smiled through the tears. "She's not boy crazy though. Not yet. I bet you were dragging your boyfriend ring shopping at fifteen."

Nicky smiled through the tears stinging her eyes. "I'm so glad they didn't bury him next to you. I would have dug that asshole up myself. He didn't deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone share a grave." Nicky placed flowers down on the grave. It was a little unkempt and she stared guiltily at the weeds. "I know I don't visit enough, but life is so busy." She exhaled forcefully and laughed bitterly. "I guess that's what I said after you died. _Oh, life was so busy_. I should have made time. I should still make time." She patted the flowers and stood. "Roses. Not a dozen red stem roses. Just a bunch of pink ones, but still roses. Still your favorite."

Nicky stood. She still had a bunch of flowers to deliver to someone else. "Goodnight, Lorna. Merry Christmas, doll."

Nicky walked away, a sense of catharsis washing over her. It wouldn't last long, she knew, as she found her way to a fresher grave. "It's me, Ma." She said as she knelt at the second grave. The flowers had wilted a little since the funeral, but her grave still looked colorful despite the coverings of snow. Nicky brushed the snow from the top of the grave and placed her fresh bunch of flowers down.

"I didn't know if I'd get another chance to visit before Christmas." Nicky admitted. "It's a busy time. Slower without you around. But still busy. We made pancakes this morning," Nicky said, her voice cracking painfully. "I think Sam would never eat another pancake again if it meant seeing you for one last time. I know I would. Not just pancakes," she said, her voice breathy. "I think I'd give up almost anything."

Nicky sat back. "It's quiet out here. I like it. That must be strange to hear, huh? Little girl big mouth likes the quiet. I think it's because I can pretend you're talking back to me. You know, it's weird. It's like I have you in my head now, instead of my own voice, I hear yours." Nicky stood. "I think I'm okay with that, Ma. As long as you're still here with me somehow."

* * *

"Is that you, Mom?" Samantha called from the couch as Nicky turned the key in the door. Nicky gave a start; she had thought she would be alone with her thoughts when she returned, yet her daughter had risen again. She understood. Her own sleep had been broken at best. She hovered by the doorway and watched Nicky take off her scarf and hang it up like she had done a thousand times. Her stare was fixed on her mother's tear stained cheeks and watery eyes.

"Don't worry. I'm just tired, sweetheart." Nicky skirted around the real reason for her red, puffy eyes and tried to reassure her daughter with a smile. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up. You're usually dead to the world once you're asleep." Nicky hung up her coat on the stand next to the door and made a beeline for the kitchen. "You want some hot cocoa?"

Samantha nodded easily, her tired gaze mainly fixed on the TV. "It's fine," Sam said. "And sure. You sure _you_ wanna make it, though?"

Nicky glanced up from making the drinks. She felt beyond tired and emotionally drained from the whole day, but she cracked a smile regardless. "I didn't know you could burn milk." Nicky laughed. It wasn't an easy thing to do, laughing, but the way her daughter's face lit up at the memory made it worth it. She had so many memories to share with her. So many things she had never heard. Nicky poured the hot cocoas and sat down next to her daughter.

"There are a lot of things I haven't told you. A lot of stories I think you'd like to hear." Nicky said quietly, playing with the charms on her bracelet. "I think your babushka wanted you to know about them too."

Samantha smiled mournfully. She knew it was hard for her mother to share that, to even talk about Red was difficult at the best of times, and yet she'd clearly been crying and struggling enough to leave in the middle of the night, and she still wanted to tell her stories of happier times. "Why don't you tell me them now?"

Nicky allowed herself a small smile, and held up her bracelet, jingling the charms. "Where do you want me to start?"

* * *

 ** _Hey lovelies!  
_** ** _I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please leave me a review telling me what you thought and what you'd like to see.  
_** ** _Stay safe and happy._**

 ** _\- Star xo_**


	4. Charm: Key

_A small but intricate key charm, the top in the shape of a heart._

Sprinting down the stairs two at a time, Nicky headed straight for their mailbox. The key was poised and ready well before she reached it, and as she yanked the little door open, her heart skipped a beat. It had finally come! Delving into the tiny box, Nicky pulled the little stack of letters out and ignored Red's monthly baking brochure and the circulars that plagued them every week. She tucked them under her arm and focused on the one letter that mattered - the one that would determine her future. She tore the letter open but then paused. If it was a rejection - which, she reasoned with herself, it probably was - she didn't want to cry in the lobby.

Flashing a smile to the doorman, she dashed back up the stairs. By the time she reached their apartment, she was breathless. "Shit," she called through pants as she opened the door. "I've really gotta start working out more! It's your baking, Ma."

"Bullshit," Red called from the kitchen, her hands covered in flour. She raised an eyebrow. "I think it's more to do with the fact that you get a taxi to avoid walking two blocks. That's why your hips are getting bigger and your bank balance is getting smaller."

Nicky rolled her eyes and waved the letter in the air. "That might change soon," she sang. "Well, the bank balance part." She shook her hips jokingly and laughed. "The letter came, the one from the PR company."

"Oh yeah?" Red replied. She stirred the mixture in her bowl whilst looking at Nicky. She didn't need to concentrate, she had made the recipe hundreds if not thousands of times before. "You got it, then?"

Nicky's bravado suddenly lapsed. "Well, no. I haven't opened it yet."

Red chuckled. "Well, aren't you going to?"

Standing in the middle of the apartment, Nicky held the letter in trembling hands. When she'd pulled it from the slot, her anticipation had risen to an all time high and she'd ripped the envelope right open. But now as she held it she couldn't quite convince herself to read it. The letters blurred together. "I can't."

Like a child with yet another bedtime story, she held the letter out to Red, who watched curiously from across the room. Wiping floury hands on her apron, Red rested her glasses on her nose and took the letter. Painfully slowly, at least it felt to Nicky, she scanned through the letter.

"You did it, _malyshka,"_ she said proudly, offering the letter back to Nicky. "You got the job!"

"I got it?" Nicky echoed. She took the letter but didn't read it for herself, instead choosing to place it on the coffee table in front of her. She sat down on the couch, sinking down into the familiar cushions and staring at the letter. She chewed her lip thoughtfully as she stared.

"What's wrong?" Red said, undoing her apron and coming to join Nicky on the couch. Baking could wait. She was only getting ahead on the stock for the bakery anyway, and now that she'd bought shares in the place, she was her own boss. She switched off the TV so the background noise wasn't a distraction and faced Nicky. "Come on," she said, a little impatiently. "Spit it out."

"I'd have to move across town," Nicky murmured. She picked up the letter and tore at the corner. "Away from here. Away from you." Though she'd applied for the job, it was more of a dream than anything else. She hadn't anticipated being accepted.

Red felt the weight of Nicky's admission hit her as soon as Nicky finished. Her hand curled around the arm of the couch, her fingernails digging into the old fabric as she plastered a smile on her face for Nicky's sake. "Well, you don't have much time, but I can take the day off and we can go apartment hunt for you." Taking the control of a situation was the only thing Red knew how to do and she was determined not to fall apart. If Nicky had applied for the job, clearly she wanted it, and the consequences that came along with accepting it.

Besides, she had never been the type of mother to smother her children. She never wrapped her boys up in cotton wool. She was the mother cheering from the sidelines, of course, but she was happy when they moved away and made lives for themselves. But it was different with Nicky. Perhaps it was the fact that she was a daughter, perhaps it was the bond they'd created not through blood, but through love...Red didn't know, but she _did_ know that this was harder to swallow.

Nicky's eyes stayed trained on the rug. She traced the pattern with the toe of her shoe and noticed a stain that Red clearly had missed in her spring clean. In fact, she focused on everything but what Red was saying. She was hurt that Red didn't seem bothered, and though it stung her pride to admit, she was scared that she wouldn't be able to cope on her own. At least not sober.

Finally, after a few moments of contemplation, Nicky gave a swift nod. If Red didn't care, she wouldn't either. And this was a new start, a _good_ job. Best of all, she'd got it by her own merits; Marka had nothing to do with it. She felt something that resembled pride and it was still a novel feeling for her. "Okay, let's do it."

* * *

Some weeks passed and eventually the time came for Nicky to move into the apartment she would come to call home. Nicky's name was on the lease, her clothes were in the drawers, and yet on moving day she couldn't quite believe what she'd done. Night had fallen by the time she'd worked up the nerve to actually go over there, and Red had insisted on helping her with the few things she had left to move.

Red looked around the small living room as Nicky placed a final box down on the floor. Her girl was being unusually quiet. Red took a deep breath. "It's nice," she said, tapping the coffee table. "A little chilly, though. Do you have your blanket?"

Nicky kicked the box at her feet. "It's in there." The threadbare comforter really needed mending, but Nicky couldn't bear to be parted with it after all of these years.

Red nodded. Nicky made no move to do anything, so she drew her into a hug. "You'll come by the shop tomorrow for lunch, hmm? If you're not too busy impressing your colleagues, that is."

Nicky smiled faintly. "I'll be there."

"Okay," Red said, after a beat. She kissed Nicky's cheek, and headed for the door. "Goodnight, Nicky. Good luck for the morning. Don't forget to eat breakfast."

Nicky laughed. "I won't, Red," she said. And then, as she watched the door close behind Red, she sank down onto the couch. It would be a long night.

* * *

Nicky climbed into bed later that night. Her old blanket wrapped around her like a protective layer, and she snuggled into it. Despite everything going well for her, she couldn't help the lump that rose in her throat. Something about being alone in a cold apartment took her back to all of those years ago when she was lost and alone, with no place or person to call home. She screwed her eyes shut. It was like all the loneliness that she'd ever felt in her life was crushing her, all at once. She wasn't lonely anymore. She had a _good_ life. So why did she feel like if she opened her eyes, she'd be twelve years old again, filled with anxiety about when she'd see her mother again?

She couldn't stand it any longer. Kicking the covers from over her, she pulled on a hoodie and headed for the front door.

* * *

Red woke with a start as she heard hammering on the front door. Despite her back, she leapt out of bed. The knocking on the door wasn't tentative or worried about waking the neighbors, it was insistent and desperate. Red's heart was in her mouth and everything that could possibly be wrong with everyone she cared about, all of her children that were away from her, flashed through her mind.

She opened the door to a hooded Nicky, whose eyes were darkened with lack of sleep, and whose hair was messy from tossing and turning for hours.

Pushing past Red, Nicky invited herself inside. "I failed," Nicky said flatly, coming in to sit on the couch. Red raised her eyebrows as she watched her. Nicky pulled the hoodie around her tighter, shaking her head and resting her chin on her hands. " _Again."_

"You failed at what, exactly?" Red asked wearily. She shuffled into the living room, tying the cord of her dressing gown around her waist. As worried as she was, she couldn't deny the fact that she was happy to see Nicky. She'd only been gone hours, yet the house had been too quiet without her, too clean, and lacked the chaos that her daughter always brought. It had been a long day, though, and she wasn't as young as she used to be. The older woman stifled a yawn.

"At life," Nicky said miserably. "I couldn't even stay there for one fucking night."

Red glanced at the clock that hung on the wall. "It's four thirty. So congratulations, and good morning - you spent a night there."

"Don't joke," Nicky said. "What's gonna happen if I come running home every time there's a problem, or every time I miss you?"

"I'm gonna stop locking the door," Red said with yet another yawn, recalling the panic when Nicky had banged on the door.

"Nicky," Red said finally, turning to face her troubled daughter. She shook her head, not angrily, and ran her fingers through her hair. "You never have to worry about that." The older woman slipped her necklace off, casting the pendant aside. It was just an old cheap thing, nothing sentimental. Rummaging in a drawer to the left of her, hampered by the dim light that nightfall and cheap lamps had brought, she produced a key.

"What are you doing?" Nicky asked. Her curiosity had beaten her embarrassment at having to run home to mommy, and she craned her neck to see.

"Come here," Red instructed.

Her fingers moved deftly as she slipped the chain of the necklace through the hole in the top of the key, and then as she moved Nicky's mane of hair to clasp the necklace in place. It dangled next to her St Joseph's pendant and she shivered as the cold metal brushed the scar on her chest.

"There," she said softly, happy with her handiwork. "I don't know why you ever gave me it back. Now you can keep it close to you at all times."

"Red," Nicky said, her voice rising in a whine. Her fingers curled around the key. "You don't have to give me this. This isn't my home anymore." Her voice faltered slightly. "For the first time in my life, I'm doing good. I have a job, an apartment...I'm standing on my own two feet. Aren't you proud of me?"

Red stroked Nicky's hair, the small laugh that escaped tickling her neck. "I'm always proud of you, Nicky." She lead the younger woman to sit down, and yawned in the half light. "You think going home means you stepped back? You think it means you failed?" Nicky nodded against Red. "You should be proud to be homesick, Nicky. It means you've built something worth coming back to. Because that's what life is all about - coming home. You think Marka feels homesick? Nope. That bitch doesn't have anything to come home to. But we do, Nicky. And I'm _so_ fucking proud that you feel like you can always come home."

Nicky's brow furrowed. She had never considered it that way. "Thanks, Ma," she said quietly. The metal of the key against her chest had warmed, much like she had to the idea of being able to come home again.

"Promise me, _malyshka._ You'll always come home."

"I promise."

 _ **A/N:  
Hiya lovelies! So if you're confused, this is the first chapter about Nicky's bracelet charms - a key. I hope you liked the chapter. Please tell me your thoughts in a review and feel free to leave a suggestion for a charm. I do have the basic plot of the story figured out, but sometimes you just need a fluffy chapter, you know?! **_

_**Hope you're all safe and well.**_

 _ **\- Star xo**_


	5. Charm: Airplane

_A charm in the shape of an airplane_

Red brought her wrist up to her eye level pointedly, checking her watch for the third time in ten minutes. Her lack of subtlety was beginning to piss Nicky off, compounded by the fact that this was supposed to be a magical trip.

"Ma, we're not gonna be late," Nicky snapped, half the contents of her purse scattered on the airport floor. "Will you just relax?"

"I can't," Red admitted, sweeping a lock of hair back. She looked at the list of flights lit up on the display board, her eyes immediately flitting to their flight number.

The tickets that she now couldn't find, as she rummaged through her bag.

Red dropped her wrist, her expression softening. "This trip means the world to me."

When she had mentioned in passing a wish to show Nicky the place she grew up, she hadn't imagined that the girl would take that as a sign to book the despite the anxiety swirling around in her stomach, when she saw Nicky and Vasily crouched over a bag, quietly bickering about who had the tickets, she couldn't help but smile.

 _Red's couch was the best place to watch movies, and so once a week, that's what they did. But Red frowned as the credits rolled on the one they'd just watched, and Nicky's interest piqued._

" _What?" she asked, sitting up from the position she'd been in, which had been laying her head on Red's lap._

" _Nothing," Red said vaguely. "I just wish I could show you what Russia is really like," she admitted, pulling the knitted blanket up around them and tucking it in. She shook her head. "It's always portrayed like that on movies. I don't like it. I want you to see where I grew up. It would be nice, hmm?"_

 _Nicky balled up the fabric on the blanket, focusing on the pattern on it instead of what Red was saying. Russia simply reminded Nicky of the time Red had been gone. She'd spent hours imagining what it was like. What Red could be doing, what she was eating, where she was sleeping. Maybe if she got the chance to see for herself, it would heal some old wounds._

" _We could walk by the river. I used to do that with my mama. When I went back, I always imagined you by my side. I didn't have you, and my mama was long dead. I felt so alone." Red let out a long deep breath, and shook her head. "It's silly, I know, but I always imagined doing those things with my daughter, if I had one. And now I do, it makes me miss not having done it with you."_

 _Nicky had to admit it sounded nice - and the feeling that came with Red's words about having a daughter made her feel safer than she had felt in a long time._

" _Well…" Nicky said slowly as she thought about the logistics. "Maybe one day we will."_

" _Maybe," Red said doubtfully._

Nicky let out a sigh of relief as she finally located the tickets. She fanned them in front of her, ignoring Vasily's muttered " _I told you so",_ and jumped to her feet. "Ready now, Ma?!"

* * *

When they were finally boarded, and the plane began to take off, Red looked out of the window. A look of sheer amazement crossed her features as she did so, and she grinned.

"What?" Nicky asked, leaning forward to look out. Her nose wrinkled as she saw the all too familiar sight of the plane taking off. It was the worst part for her - her ears would _always_ pop. "It's just the ground."

Red looked at Nicky in awe. Nicky had been on countless plane journeys, she knew that, but how she ever saw the world falling away behind her as she soared into the sky and didn't think it was beautiful was beyond her.

"This is only my third time on a plane," Red explained, as she looked out of the window in wonderment. "The first time was leaving Russia. The second time was going back," she said. "Neither time did I feel like looking out of the window."

She craned her neck to get a better look of the ground. Everything looked so small. It put her life into perspective - the big events in her life were minute in comparison, and the small things, well...they weren't worth the time she spent worrying about them. Here and now, with her girl on one side of her and Vasily on the other, things were almost perfect. If her other sons had joined them, it would have been a bonus - but they had their own lives to lead now, and as much as she missed them, she understood.

Nicky offered Red a sheepish smile. Her own number of plane journeys outnumbered the years she'd spent on the planet, and she forgot her privilege sometimes, but she was grateful to be experiencing this with Red and Vasily. Happier still that Marka was footing the bill, on the credit card she'd given to Nicky to use for emergencies.

The flight passed quickly for Red, who fell asleep as soon as she saw the wheels lift up from the ground, slowly for Nicky who watched every movie they had, and terrifyingly for Vasily, who had never flown before in his life.

When they arrived at the small house in the even smaller town that Red had grown up in, it took all of them a few moments to process it. Red clutched the door handle with a churning stomach, Nicky looked out of the window blankly, and Vasily leaped from the cab, more than eager to see his tetushka after all these years.

All three climbed out of the cab. Vasily pulled the suitcases from the trunk whilst Red walked with Nicky to the door. The younger woman rapped on the door, her knock tentative.

Vasily bounded over behind them, dragging a plethora of suitcases behind him. He peered at the window next to the door, his features lighting up when the door creaked open.

"Ah," an older woman said, wiping her floury hands on an apron. Her voice was heavily accented, a Russian intonation seeping into the English words. She gripped Nicky by the shoulders, planting a kiss on her cheek. "So _you're_ famous Nicky!"

Nicky blinked up at the woman, one hand still curled over the handle of her carry on uncertainly. She offered a tentative smile, letting the woman take her hand and give it a squeeze.

"I've heard so much about you, you know," she said. "I always wanted a niece. And now here she is! I'm Rozalina, by the way." She looked behind Nicky to see Vasily, loaded up with most of the bags, and reached up to pinch his cheek, as if he was a little boy again. "I haven't forgotten about my favorite nephew."

"But Yuri's at home," Red said dryly, raising her eyebrows at her former sister-in law. Shuffling into the house and encouraging her children to follow suit, she set her own small suitcase down on the floor, making herself at home by removing her coat and gloves. Her cheeks glowed from the cold.

"You'll give the poor boy a complex," Rozalina replied. "Isn't he handsome? I knew he'd be breaking hearts when he grew up. Thankfully, he got your looks." She turned back to Vasily. "I love your papa, but the men in our family...they lose their hair, and they gain a gut."

Vasily laughed, his hand subconsciously coming up to feel his hair.

"Don't worry," Nicky said, ruffling his hair because she knew he hated it, "I think you still have a good five years of full hair left."

"Shut up," Vasily said, a blush sweeping his cheeks. "Ma, Papa definitely didn't lose his hair before thirty, right?"

"Of course not, dear," Red said, raising her eyebrows at her sister-in-law.

They exchanged a smile, and then Rozalina took another look at Nicky. "Isn't she just like you?" she marvelled, lifting up some of her hair. "Not in looks, of course, but she's a big mouth, too."

Nicky laughed. "What good are brothers if not to piss off?" she asked.

Rozalina nodded. "You tell me! Dmitri was always tattling on me for something. He's on business at the moment, so no chance of you bumping into him."

Red nodded. "It's a shame for Vasily," she said diplomatically.

"Mm," Rozalina agreed. "So Galina, tell me. What are you here for?"

"Vasily wants to visit with his extended family. And Nicky...well, she wants to know where I came from. And," she threw a regretful smile to Rozaline, "where I went."

"I see," Rozalina said. "Well, you'll be seeing a lot more of the four walls in the bedroom," she said. "Galina only stayed here for a day or two whilst we found them somewhere more permanent, but I've never seen her so depressed."

Nicky's head snapped up. Of course she'd heard the same from Red, but somebody else confirming her sadness at their separation was something else. A sad smile flickered over her lips.

Red looked down. "It was the hardest thing I ever did, leaving my children. And not something I want to relive," she said pointedly. "I'm going to show Nicky around town. But for now, I'm going to bed. I'm absolutely exhausted after that flight. Nicky, you come with me in the double room. Vasily can take the couch."

Rozalina smiled at her nephew for his easy going acceptance, despite the fact that his legs would hang off the edge. "I'll wake you all up bright and early with some _kasha."_

Red smacked her lips. "Tastes like childhood," she said, coming to a stand. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she stifled a yawn. "Well, goodnight."

Later that night, after a few animated card games with Vasily, Nicky crawled into bed beside Red. It was a double, albeit a small one, and Nicky's side of the bed was cold from not being slept in. She sneaked her legs over to Red's side, warming her cold feet on Red's legs.

"I thought you'd grow out of doing that," Red murmured, rolling over to face her. Her voice was barely a whisper when she continued, "I missed that when I was here."

Nicky looked away. Despite not being opposed to the trip when Red proposed it, she found that it was bringing up memories as Red told her about what her life had been like in those painful years. It's said that time heals all wounds, but for Nicky, it hadn't been the case. Things were better now, but being reminded of the time when she was alone still stung even now.

She heard her own words that Christmas Day ringing in her head - _take me with you._ If Red had, they would have slept in this bed, together, just like now. And maybe things would have been different. Nicky's toes curled under the blanket as she tried to push the thought from her head.

"The world felt a little colder when you left," Nicky admitted. "I was alone for a long time."

Red propped her head up on her elbow. Emotion pooled in her eyes, but she didn't let the tears fall. This was Nicky's moment, and if she cried, Nicky would shut her mouth. Instead, she reached out to touch Nicky's face, her fingers raking through the golden curls. It wasn't often Nicky opened up about her life back then, and she knew it was painful for her. Red cleared her throat, trying to rid herself of the lump that had formed in her throat.

She knew all of her children had missed her, but her boys had each other to lean on. Nicky had leaned on drugs. The guilt was immense, and even now in dark times, dwelling on it for too long made her feel like it would crush her.

"You're not alone now," Red said. It couldn't make up for the time she'd thrown away, but it meant a lot to both of them. "And whilst I'm alive, you never will be again."

"Do you promise?" Nicky asked. Unusually soft, her voice sounded like it got lost in the room, and Red's heart felt like it might break. It was in those words that she knew the damage she caused would be life long. She could only hope that the good outweighed the bad.

Red pulled Nicky towards her, planting a kiss on her forehead. It was with great pleasure that she noticed Nicky had warmed up considerably in the time they'd spent laying together. Even her icy toes were toasty now.

"Of course I promise."

 _ **A/N:**_

 _ **Ah so it's been like a year since I updated. I'm terrible.  
Buuuut I have just updated every single fic I have in the month of June, so yay!  
Hope you liked it. Let me know your thoughts and if you'd like to see anything specially. I do have a future chapter that I wrote like more than a year ago that I'm desperate to post but it's for later on!  
**_


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